This Unfinished Dream
by Alaive
Summary: Now a typical college student, Ryoma is bored and signs up for a tennis class and finds an unlikely someone that he let slip away...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Ohjisama. (I know, how original…)

**Notes: **Hey all! After a long, long time away, I decided to post a second POT fic! Though after reading this chapter, I thought that it was a lot like the beginning of _Remembering_, but don't worry, I'll make sure it's different. Hope you have a nice read. Feedback of any sort greatly appreciated.

**Title**: This Unfinished Dream

**Category**: Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Ohjisama

**Genre(s)**: Romance/General

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: Now a typical American college student, Ryoma is bored, he signs up for a tennis class and finds an unlikely someone that he let slip away…

* * *

--Chapter 1-- 

"…Oi, Ryoma!" a voice cut into his subconscious urgently, somewhere not too far away, "Telephone! Ryoma!" he felt himself being jarred most unpleasantly awake, "No, no, don't call back; I think he's coming around nicely…"

Ryoma Echizen opened one eye, according to the alarm clock he kept by his night table, it was barely seven. To top it off, it was a Saturday and even on days where he had class, he didn't get up this early, "Kevin, shut up and tell whoever it is that I _will _call back." He murmured sleepily and rolled over. "Hang up if it's a reporter."

"—Not possible." Kevin returned firmly with a smirk, "Unless of course--"

Oh, how he hated those three words. Ryoma rose up on one elbow and jerked the receiver out of the blonde's hands. "You better have a good reason for calling this ea--"

A voice that, even at twenty-two had not quite been able to lose its feminine wont, "Saa, Echizen, is that how you greet your senpai? Oh, and was that _Kevin Smith_'s voice I heard? Are you sleeping together now?" A typical greeting from Fuji Syusuke.

Ryoma sighed, his plans for a quiet Saturday had just been exquisitely ruined from thousands of miles away. "Fuji…senpai." First surprise, then anger. "Sorry if I'm being rude, it's not even seven-o'-clock here. And no, I am NOT sleeping with Kevin Smith. If you tell anyone that I am, I swear that I will kill you."

"It's nice to know I can still unnerve you, even over the phone, with an ocean between us." Fuji laughed, "Not even my precious Kunimitsu?"

"…Pervert." Ryoma shuddered, he could all too easily imagine Fuji smirking,"Especially not buchou." He said fiercely. If Fuji told Tezuka then…well, he could hope for the better that the former tennis captain would only keel over in a permanent coma…On the second thought, maybe not, there was no telling what kind of torture and perversion Fuji was subjecting Tezuka under these days.

"There's not much you can do while stuck in LA, you know." Fuji said, rather smugly, "And stop it with the senpai buchou business, it's been such a long time." For a minute, Ryoma's ex-teammate sounded regretful, but it did not last long, the tensai promptly perked up again, "But of all people, you're sharing a room with _Kevin Smith_?"

Ryoma sank back against the mountain of pillows, he didn't remind Fuji that it was he that demanded to be called 'senpai' in the first place. "I told you that in my last letter. It wasn't planned, and it's not a room, it's an apartment, with respectively separate bedrooms." He replied, somewhat irritably, "Mada mada dane, I don't see why it's such a big deal for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Fuji repeated, amused, "Saa, Echizen, are Americans all so rude these days? Or is it just you?"

"Fuji-sen—Fuji, could you just tell me why you called?" Ryoma asked bluntly, suppressing a yawn, "'Cause if there's not anything, I'm going back to sleep."

There was a slight pause at the other end, the next time Fuji spoke, he sounded genuinely hurt, "Ah, well, then I'll be brief and let you get back to your beauty sleep."

Ryoma opened his mouth to respond, but the other rushed on, giving him no chance.

"Anyways, you're still playing in tournaments, aren't you?"

"Some. But since the semester started I haven't been playing that much with the classes and all."

"Have you met anyone yet?"

"…Anyone?" Ryoma blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Anyone—that we know. From Japan." Fuji added helpfully.

"Not recently. " Ryoma thought for a minute, "I might have met Kirihara earlier last year, I don't remember. Why?" The prodigy was much too cunning, not to mentiionsadistic,to ask question just for the sake of asking.

"Oh, it's just...well, never mind, I was just wondering, that's all." Fuji's manner was suddenly unusually brisk. "There's nothing wrong with asking, is there?"

When you were Fuji Syusuke, you didn't ask unless you knew, so yes, everything was wrong with asking. Ryoma shifted the receiver to his other ear. "…I guess not."

"Anyways, I'm sorry I woke you. But it's nice to hear our home-grown pillar's managing." Sometimes, the other tended to be a little more nostalgic than he liked, the 'pillar' business was nearly two years to a decade old. Fuji sighed, "Kunimitsu and the others say hello." A pause, "I do wish you'd call more often, or visit. Lettersand emailsaren't the same, you know. We all miss you, here and I'm sure that I'd speak for all of us."

Ryoma knew, probably a lot more than Fuji realized. "Mada mada dane. Tell them hi for me too."

"Well, later, then. Kunimitsu wants me."

He had his doubts about that, if anything, it should have been the other way around, but for very good reasons, Ryoma wasn't about to argue, "…Then I, uh, won't keep you, bye."

Heput the receiver carefully beside him on the pillow, and lay down, though for obvious reasons, sleep did not come.

The dark olive-haired boy rolled over after a minute or two, reaching for a blanket that had fallen, and spotted a catalogue of the semester's classes. The lazily scrawled signature on the cover told him it was Kevin's. His former rival/current colleague had an almost curious obsession with signatures in general.

Ryoma sprawled out on his stomach and idly flipped to the Physical Education section and found tennis. The Advanced Tennis class metonce a weekevery Saturday from two to four-thirty.

Maybe it was time for a change of pace. It'd be stress-relieving, to say the last, to play without worrying about the scoreboard all the time. Not that Ryoma didn't like competitions, he did; but they did take a lot out of him. "Hey, Kevin?"

Kevin promptly materialized at the doorway, blocking the strip of sunlight that otherwise spilled into his room. "Yeah?" he'd been in the shower, his clothes were slightly damp, and his hair was wrapped up in a towel. "…Still mad that I woke you?" he asked challengingly.

If Ryoma had to pick one characteristic worth admiring in a Smith, it would have been their promptness. How prompt they were when holding a grudge, how prompt they were giving in to their tempers.

He turned back to the catalogue. "No, I wasn't mad. A bit ticked, but not mad." He looked from the page to Kevin and back to the page again, "How many classes are you taking this semester?"

"Four. They're not that heavy, though." Kevin answered readily. "What's up?"

"You want to take Advanced Tennis with me? Only on Saturdays from two to four-thirty?"

Kevin tilted his head to one side, resting against the doorframe, his eyes closed. He stood still for a long moment and said, "Well, sure, but I doubt it'd be much a challenge for us. I mean, we do play in professional tournaments." He stopped abruptly and fixed Ryoma with a hard stare, "Any particular reason?"

"Just bored." Ryoma returned nonchalantly.

Kevin seemed to believe him. "Fine, whatever." He shrugged, "Come eat, the coffee's getting cold."

* * *

Saturday came, and when Ryoma, along with Kevin made their way down to the university tennis courts, he wondered if he'd made a mistake. 

For one thing, Ryoma regretted not inquiring about the general level of the class before signing on. The teacher, whoever he was, seemed to have allowed prospective students to warm up or something. To be perfectlyblunt, they were more than pathetic.

At last, the teacher, a blurred figure standing at the other end of the courts whistled loudly for attention.

"Should we drop?" Kevin asked. "I mean...I thought it'd be bad, but not...this bad."

"…Mada mada, I'm thinking about it." Ryoma returned out of the corners of his mouth.

"They all suck." his friend declared, "I bet we could have beaten them back in grade school."

"...Probably."

Kevin wasn't been exactly quiet, either, a couple of seniors (or so they looked) turned to glare at him, "Excuse me?" one asked threateningly.

"You can have fun with them, then." Ryoma tapped his racket lightly against his palm. "Just like you used to."

"Ryo-ma! I was a kid then."

"Che."

The teacher was talking. "—And though Ore-sama wishes it were otherwise, I'm stuck with you helpless bastards for the next two hours and a half--"

Ryoma thought he went on to say something else too, but he didn't hear.

Ore-sama…?

It couldn't be…

Yet there was only one person in the whole of this galaxy who would…

"Ryoma?"

Kevin. Ryoma turned, "What?"

"He's calling roll. Your name should be coming up soon. Pay attention."

"...Oh."

"Christiansen, Sarah."

"Present."

Derek, Jack."

"Here."

Dillon, Andrew."

"Here."

Pause.

Absolute silence.

"Echizen…Ryoma?"

* * *

Hehe, Cliffy! I'm evil… 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Atobe and Ryoma, both of them are bound and gagged in my closet for my entertainment…yeah right

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! They totally kept me going when I was suffering from a severe case of writers' block. Sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Tezuka put down the sports magazine he was reading and regarded Fuji with a mock-stern glare as other man (though in his eyes, Fuji always would be no more than a boy) cut off the speakerphone, "…Will you ever grow up?" Tezuka asked finally, more than a bit exasperated. "So what if Echizen and Kevin Smith are sharing a room?" _

"_They're sharing an **apartment**, with respectively separate bedrooms. The showers are another story." Fuji grinned and crawled on the couch next to him, "That kid still cracks me up." He paused, "It's surprising though, don't you think, that of all people they'd end up being roommates?" _

"_Depends on how you look at it." Tezuka shrugged, "I'm just surprised that Atobe made such a request. That's all." _

_Fuji laughed lightly and kissed him, "Yeah, that too, I guess. But I'm not that surprised, actually." _

"_Why?" Tezuka blinked. _

"_You and Ryoma are a lot alike." Was all Fuji offered, "Maybe that's why he took a fancy to your protégé,. Atobe's always liked you, in case you didn't know." He put his arms possessively around this former captain/current lover's waist and leaned close, "I've spent so much time chasing you that I'm not about to give you up, Kunimitsu." _

_Tezuka allowed himself a small smile at this candid, but so very true statement, but Fuji didn't see, "I can imagine." He said quietly. _

"_Saa…" Fuji smiled an ever so sadistic smile, a smile that still made Tezuka's skin prickle with apprehension, "I wonder if they've met yet…" _

_That tone of voice was, is and always will be unsettling. Tezuka shuddered, suddenly glad that Echizen was in the U.S. and therefore far out of reach for whatever plans Fuji might have hatched. _

* * *

**This Unfinished Dream**

**

* * *

****-Chapter 2-**

Somehow or the other, Ryoma had made his way in front of the crowd, he didn't remember how. But his best guess was that Kevin dragged him. "…Good afternoon, Monkey King." He said, as if he had said it every afternoon of his entire life.

The whispers and talking started anew, that was when Ryoma realized that things had been absolutely silent before. He caught only fragments about what was said, mostly about how rude he was, and why the teacher was so slow in taking roll. Oh, and about how _he_ was the brat that entered the U.S. open when he was in Jr. High and on and on and on…

To which Atobe Keigo, expensive leather jacket, tennis racket, narcissistic smirk and all returned, "Don't call me that." As if he too, had to endure this childish banter everyday of his entire life.

"…Finish calling roll, Monkey King, you're not finished yet." Ryoma looked away, "Mada mada dane, don't let me distract you." He walked back into the crowd, which parted reverently before him like the Red Sea, with an animated Kevin at his heels.

Atobe did not say anything, not even shut up, which was always a given…except this once. He merely turned back to the roll sheet and called out the next name Edwards something.

"Oi, Ryoma, is that the guy that Billy and Michael played against during the invitational with that other guy?"

Wordlessly, Ryoma nodded.

"What the hell's he doing _here?_" Kevin wondered incredulously. "Teaching this hell of a dump?"

The seniors that had only glared and threatened him before now balled their fists and looked ready to jump him. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Kevin dismissed them airily, and turned his attention back to Atobe, who was once more immersed in roll call, "What's his name again?"

After casting a rather worried look in the direction of the seniors, he answered, "…Atobe Keigo." Ryoma was surprised that the name still slid so easily from his lips, after such a long time. "Don't ask me, I don't know why he's here either."

"…Atobe, huh? Well, I haven't seen his name in the magazines, so it's pretty obvious he's not pro." Turning back to Ryoma, Kevin asked, "Were you friends with him, back in Japan?"

"…Was I…" Ryoma trailed off thoughtfully. He'd never considered the question before. Was he 'friends' with the most obnoxious guy in Japan, and possibly of all Asia, and possibly on Earth? "…I don't think we ever got past the rival phase of our acquaintanceship." He was careful not to say relationship. To say it was such would be, to say the least, misleading.

"…Oh," Ryoma could not tell if Kevin was disappointed or not. "…That's understandable. But still…if he's here, and he's not pro--"

"Yet." Ryoma supplied, hoping to derail the conversation into safer ground. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure what his feelings were regarding Atobe at this moment and like the many other troublesome things littering in his life, he didn't want to think about it, at least, not now.

But Kevin was not to be so easily distracted. "True, he's not pro yet, but why'd he come here and not New York or something? That's a better launch pad for a career than here. All they care about here in LA is basketball." He said thoughtfully.

That was strange, and Ryoma was inclined to agree, though most of the time when his roommate said anything reasonable, his reaction was the exact opposite. Whether Kevin realized it or not, he had just answered another unasked question. Maybe that was why the Advanced Tennis Class was so…for the lack of a politer word—crude. "But this is LA." Ryoma said, since he could not think of anything else. He had to say something, however untelligent, or else Kevin would most likely be unwilling to let the subject rest.

"So you weren't friends with him?" Kevin persisted. "He treated you like you were his friend." He added as a tentative afterthought, "Well…in a weird way, he did."

Ryoma heaved a heavy sigh of irritation; he was all at once tired of Kevin Smith and his questions. Granted, trying to talk to a very pissed off Kevin was like trying to talk to a blonde, blue-eyed Tezuka who spoke English, talking to a curious, happy Kevin was another story. He was relieved when Kevin's name was called.

However, his relief was not to last, it promptly evaporated when Kevin returned with Atobe in tow. "Don't you have other students to tend to?" Ryoma said.

"I'm planning to kick half of them out anyways." Atobe dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand, like how he would dismiss a lowly servant asking a stupid question. "Advanced Tennis my ass."

Kevin shot him a pointed look, which Ryoma, in turn, pointedly ignored. "…Why are you here, Atobe?" 'san' was not needed, since the western culture, as Fuji did pointed out was much ruder than the eastern world in general. Neither was 'senpai' because Ryoma had never had the misfortune to be one of Atobe's underlings, err, he meant underclassmen.

"…Well," Atobe took his time answering, "…Let's just say that I'm here on business, shall we?" He finished with a smirk.

"Business?" Ryoma's eyes at once narrowed in suspicion. "What kind of business, exactly, Monkey King?"

Kevin stood silently behind Ryoma, taking this all in with relish. He was starting to depict some kind of pattern. Clearly, this Atobe guy and Ryoma went through all of this before…all that was missing now were the circumstances.

When Atobe did not answer, Ryoma asked again, a trifle sharper this time, "What kind of business, _Atobe_?"

Atobe smirked, "Classified."

"_Have you met anyone yet?"_

"…_Anyone?" _

"_That we know, from Japan." _

"Business for Fuji?" Ryoma gritted out between clenched teeth.

Kevin put a hand warningly on his shoulder, "Calm down." After casting a worried glance in Atobe's direction, he whispered, "I know you guys were rivals back then, but the status quo has changed, buddy, he's a teacher here. If you attack him, things might get ugly."

Of course Atobe knew this. Ryoma glared at him. "I wasn't going to attack him." He shot back

"Sure you weren't." Atobe gave him a knowing nod, "But since you're _so _insistent on knowing, Ore-sama will indulge you, just this once." He paused dramatically, " Sorry to disappoint you, Ryoma, but my being here has nothing to do with Fuji Syusuke."

Ryoma was so surprised that he forgot to get angry, merely stood there like an idiot with his jaw hanging. "What did you just call me, Monkey King?"

Kevin could barely suppress his mirth, he mumbled something about getting a drink of water, an excuse he was positive that no one heard and promptly shot off like a bullet.

"It's good for us to assimilate into Western culture." Atobe's tone took on that of an elementary history teacher, "So it's only proper that I call you Ryoma and you, on the other hand, should address me as mister."

--Mr. Atobe. The last thing that Ryoma would ever call him, not because he was trying to be rude (though truthfully that was part of it), but because it sounded plain weird. "Just answer the question." He felt, rather than saw the crowd of students gather.

By this time, Kevin had returned, out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma saw him talking to a group of curious onlookers. Atobe followed his gaze, and smirked. To say the least, Atobe's smirks were getting to be more disconcerting. Reaching out, he brushed a careless hand by his cheek, Ryoma instinctively winced at the other's touch. "Did I hurt you?"

"Answer the question."

Atobe had been speaking Japanese up to this point, and now, because he had an attentive audience at last, he switched to English. He smiled ever so sweetly, a gesture that was incredibly unlike him. "I'm here on unfinished business."


End file.
